The Pestilential Spheres
by IgirisuK
Summary: Arthur Kirkland, a young magician, is in deep trouble. The weapon he was set to guard has been stolen. The only suspect is his little sister, Kitty. And to fix things, he summoned the unpredictable demon, Bartimeus...
1. Chapter 1

_Hello, everyone, this is IgirisuK, fangeek of EVERYTHING British and proud member of the Allied Powers. ;)_

_ I've been working on this fic for a while. I'm trying to do Bartimeus-flavor, with nationtan-characters; tell me if I'm pulling it off. _

_This fic is rated __T for violence, cursing, and Spamano. _

_Other characters that will make an appearance: Iggy (duh), Feliciano, the Ottoman Empire, possibly France, and an OC-female-Ireland. *is shot by reviewers for having a female nationtan OC* This fic takes place around twenty years before the Bartimeus series, so a young Jessica Whitwell and a young(ish) Rupert Devereaux also show up.  
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_Enough blathering. I'm sure you want to hear from everyone's favorite demon. *summons Bartimeus* _

Scene 1~ Bartimeus

Even before I materialized in the pentacle- taking the form of a giant, feathered serpent- I knew that something was wrong.

It wasn't the bleary look of panic on the magician's face, or the cloying stench of rosemary that filled the room. I've seen that a thousand times, haven't we all? It wasn't even that he was brandishing a sunflower at me, as if it would keep me at bay. No, the problem was with the magician's true nature, and whatever it was, it wasn't pretty.

On the first three planes*, he looked, well, like a human. Two eyes, two arms, two legs... the usual deal. He had messy blonde hair, and massive eyebrows.** So far so normal. In fact, up to the fourth plane, he looked completely normal.

It was on the fifth plane that things started getting interesting. Where he should have been, there was a man-shaped hole. He was definitely there- I could see his aura, and it was bigger than any human's had a right to be. It was like he didn't exist... or like I could see right through him.

Well, it was a puzzle, all right. But I didn't have much time to puzzle it out. The magician dropped the sunflower, with a nervous laugh; I watched hungrily, to see if he'd step outside the pentacle. If he put a toe out of line...

The magician coughed.

"Bartimeus, listen well," he said. "I charge you to find a commoner girl by the name of Kitty Houlihan, and follow her, ensuring that she does not have any magical items on her person, and return here at daybreak to report."

It was an impressive performance. He got the whole command out in one breath; by the end of it, his face was white from lack of air.

The serpent arched its back, and hissed.

"You realize how many Kitty Houlihans there are in London alone?" I said. "I'm gonna need a bit more to go on."

The magician sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She lives in Dalton Court," he said. "1300 Dalton Court. She's got red hair, glasses, she looks a bit..."

He waved his hand in the air, vaguely.

"Tetchy," he finished. "That enough for you?"

The serpent smiled, showing every one of its thousand teeth.

"I see. You don't want her to notice you."

The magician nodded, brusquely.

"No, and you're not to inform her of your presence in any way," he said. His voice, normally squeaky, dropped to a gruff rumble. It was completely fake, and it didn't scare me for one minute.

I chuckled.

"Of course. Wouldn't want your girlfriend to get the wrong idea."

Incredibly, the magician blushed, red as an imp. He coughed, and looked down at his feet.

"She's not my girlfriend," he said.

The serpent winked.

"I see how it is," I said.

"Really, she's not," the magician said. He looked down at the circle of runes; his face was so flushed it practically glowed. "I order you to _go_."

I wasn't too interested in staying. I let his command push me away. Shifting into the form of a starling, I flew out the window, towards Dalton Court.

It was just like old times, back in Egypt. In the form of a noble hawk, I'd trailed vicious bandits across the desert time and time again. Now, if you replaced 'noble hawk' with 'bedraggled starling' and 'vicious bandits' with 'Kitty-who-is-**NOT**-his-girlfriend-he-swears', it would be exactly the same.

Well, if watching Kitty would be my ticket home, that's what I'd do.

The starling perched on a windowsill and waited. And waited.

_*The seven planes are different layers of reality, all smashed onto each other like a melting layer cake. The first plane holds normal, material things- trees, buildings, humans, and the like. The other planes hold us spirits. Humans can only see the first plane (how do you survive?) but other beings (such as me) can see all seven. Look, I'm sure I've explained this before._

_** Terrible, they were. They looked like caterpillars, but they were full of dandruff._


	2. Chapter 2

Scene 2~ England

_According to my America... if you bleep out swearing, it doesn't count. This fic is now K+, for violence and Spamano.  
>I have also written the only BartimeusHetalia crossover on this site. It feels lonely. Maybe if you feed it some reviews, it will be happier. ;)_

After dismissing the demon, Arthur Kirkland sat down on the floor inside the pentacle, and let out a deep breath.

There was no question about it- he was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. If Kitty was innocent, he'd lost his only lead. If she was guilty...

Arthur shuddered and stood up, pacing the room.

For the past three weeks, he'd been in charge of guarding two new magic weapons. And just yesterday, they had been stolen.

He pinched the bridge of his nose again, and closed his eyes. A dull ache of fear hung in the back of his mind.

_I'm doomed, no matter what happens_, he thought.

Arthur glanced down at his watch. It was only 9:00. Already, it had been a long day.

His pager buzzed, just as the phone on his desk started to ring. He crossed the room and picked it up.

"Arthur Kirkland, Internal Affairs," he said.

Ms. Ironwood's voice, as hard and sharp as nails, cut through the phone.

"Arthur, _what happened_ to the Pestilential Spheres?"

He cringed, and considered his options for a split-second. Telling the truth could be suicide... he'd have admitted, on the record, that he mucked things up. But lying... Ms. Ironwood would kill him if she found out, and he might wind up in the Tower of London as a traitor.

"They- ah- went missing, ma'am," he said nervously. "I believe they were stolen."

"Stolen," his master repeated. Her voice froze the blood in Arthur's veins.

"Y-yes, ma'am. I've been up since four in the morning tracking them down."

He had been summoning demons since he had gotten out of bed... he'd summoned five imps, a handful of foliots, and two djinn. He'd also summoned Russia twice, but that was beside the point.

"There's no sign of them anywhere," he added.

Arthur knew he talked too much under pressure... he'd seen it so many times with America that it wasn't even funny anymore. But he couldn't stop the flow of words.

_Shut up, England, _his inner censor said. _Don't babble at her. _

There was a short, awkward silence. Finally, his master spoke.

"I expected better of you, Kirkland," she said.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Arthur replied. He scuffed the toe of his ill-fitting dress shoe across the floor. "I'm concentrating my efforts on retrieving them. We should have them back by Founder's Day."

"For your sake, I hope that's true." Ms. Ironwood's voice was clipped. He knew that, if she was there in person, she would be giving him the evil eye.

His mouth suddenly felt dry.

"The Council's convening this afternoon," she continued. "Get them back by then. I don't care _what_ you have to do, just get them back. If you don't..."

She left it hanging, like a threat.

Arthur swallowed.

"Yes, ma'am," Arthur said. "I won't let you down."

Ms. Ironwood hung up the phone with a precise click. Arthur hung up as well, and rested his head in shaking hands.

_I'm dead, I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead_, he thought. _There's no WAY I can get them back by then, what the **** am I going to do?_

There was no way out. He could feel the bonds of an eternal torture closing around him- eternal, because he couldn't die. He was the personification of England, and the only way he'd die was if the British Empire fell.

His status as a nation caused some problems for him already- since he couldn't age, he looked ridiculously young. He could maybe pass for twenty-one or twenty-two, if he wore thick-soled shoes and spoke gruffly. But since there were state secrets he needed to know, he was perpetually stuck as an 'apprentice' to one of the great ones of the Empire. He knew everything that happened in his borders, but he was powerless to change them.

And that wasn't the worst part. He could tell the Empire was starting to crumble. His outermost edges- his fingers and toes and the top of his head- ached all the time, and when a battle broke out, they throbbed like mad.

The phone rang again, piercing his reverie. He felt himself sit up straighter, and held the phone as if it was his only lifeline.

"Arthur Kirkland, Internal Affairs," he said, again.

"This is Jessica Whitwell," a crisp voice said. "Do you have a minute?"

Arthur felt his face growing warm. Of course Jess would call now. He was flustered enough as it was; he never knew what to say when he talked to her.

"Of course," he said, pushing himself to sound casual. "What do you need?"

He wiped his hair out of his eyes.

"I received your invitation today," she said. "For Founder's Day."

His heart skipped a beat. He'd wanted to ask Jess to 'escort' him for months now, but he hadn't had the guts. Finally, he 'd written out an invitation, and put it in her in-tray at work.

"Yes?" he said. He couldn't hide the tremor in his voice this time. His nerves were worn to a frazzle.

He tried to calm himself by picturing Jess- her tall, lanky frame, from which a gray suit loosely hung; her cropped, ash-blonde hair; her ice blue eyes, alight with wry intelligence behind horn-rimmed glasses. But the mental image only made his heart beat faster, and his tongue tied itself into knots.

"Regrettably, I've already accepted someone else's invitation," she said.

Arthur felt the pit drop out of his stomach.

"I... I understand, Ms. Whitwell," he said. "Forgive me."

Jessica laughed.

"There's nothing to forgive," she said. "Give my regards to Ms. Ironwood."

Then she was gone, and he rested his head on his desk. He felt completely drained, and caught like a rat in a trap.

Arthur knew, from sad experience, that one never said 'This day can't get any worse'. The universe inevitably found something horrid to fling at you. But for the life of him, he couldn't see anything worse than the day he'd been having.

_This is the worst day I've had in years, and it's not even noon yet._

He levered himself upright, rubbing his sore fingers, and went back to work.


	3. Chapter 3

Scene 3 ~ Ireland

Kitty Houlihan stuck her hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket, letting them close around the orbs inside, and bit her lower lip.

She could easily see why "Don Carlos"- whoever he really was- wanted to meet her here. Even though it was broad daylight, there was almost no one on the streets. She hadn't seen a single vigilance sphere or policeman in an hour of walking, and- at the moment- she was alone.

None of this kept her from feeling that she stuck out like a sore thumb.

The few people she had seen were dressed like laborers- their clothes were sturdy, designed to get the job done. Hers weren't.

Kitty dressed like a commoner, all right... but like a trendy one. She wore a black leather jacket with a dark T-shirt, a threadbare tartan miniskirt, and scuffed combat boots that looked more like tanks than footwear. Her fiery red hair was tied up in loose pigtails, and her eyes were caged behind black cats'-eye glasses. A rosary hung from a thin chain around her neck.

She reached into her jacket pocket, carefully avoiding the Sphere, and pulled out the note.

**Meet me in the alley across the street from Rotherhithe Sewage Works, at 4:30 PM. Bring the goods. Tell NO ONE you came.

~ Don Carlos **

She'd 'talked' to Don Carlos for almost a month now- through notes left in a hole in the wall of her apartment building. He'd helped her find the Spheres, and encouraged her to steal them, promising to pay her a king's ransom for them. But this was his longest note. Most of his messages to her had been almost telegraphic.

Kitty shoved it back into her pocket, and glanced at her watch. It was 4:30... so where was Don Carlos?

A man wearing a porcelain mask and a black coat stepped out of the shadows. His hair was reddish-brown, and slicked back; his hands were gloved. Despite his elegance, he couldn't be much older than she was- they were nearly the same height.

"Hello," the stranger said. "You are Kitty Houlihan, yes?"

Kitty nodded.

"And you're Don Carlos," she said, hoping she was right.

The stranger laughed.

"Clever girl," he said. "Do you have the goods?"

Kitty took a step closer to the Don. She could feel her sixth sense tingling. Whoever this man was, he was a nation, and that didn't bode well.

"Yes," she said. "But I want to know what you'll use them for."

Don Carlos started, as if he hadn't seen this coming. Then he laughed, and held his hand out.

"I promise I will not use them to hurt you or your people... mi bella," he said. His voice dripped with amusement.

Kitty stood her ground. She kept a hand wrapped tightly around each orb, and stared him down.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she asked.

The Don shrugged.

"I do not know if I can trust you," he pointed out, quietly. "I haven't once seen that you have the Spheres."

His voice dropped to a whisper; Kitty found herself leaning closer, so she could hear what he said.

She pulled one of the orbs up, so that it stuck out of her pocket. It shed a sickly, greenish light over the whole alley.

Don Carlos leaned even closer. She felt his breath, warm on her cheek. She pushed the sphere into her pocket, and stared at him for a long moment.

"You know what?" she finally said. "I don't care what you use it for. Just promise that you won't use it to hurt me or my brothers."

"I can't make that promise," he said.

"Then I can't give you the Spheres." Kitty took a step back.

The Don's voice grew cold.

"I suppose that means I have to take them myself," he said.

Kitty took another step back. Suddenly, the stillness of the alley was threatening. She was alone, cut off from any source of help, with a stranger who'd have no problem killing her.

She felt a chill run down her spine, and she glanced behind her. Two more men in black stood behind her, staring at her from behind porcelain masks. They'd cut off her retreat.

She couldn't run. She couldn't fight. Her only weapons were the Pestilential Spheres, and if she used them, she'd die too.

Kitty closed her eyes, and clenched her fists tightly.

"Like I said before..." she said. "I'll give you the fekkin' spheres if you promise not to hurt my brother."

She felt the Don's eyes on her, piercing to her soul.

"Feliciano- use the mouler glass," he said.

One of the two men pulled a glass ball from his coat pocket. He threw it to the ground, dashing it to pieces. A red mist seeped from the pieces, coalescing into the form of a long-horned demon. It hovered in the air, eyes on Kitty's throat.

Kitty backed away.

Don Carlos laughed- a low, raspy chuckle.

"Perhaps this will change your mind," he said. "Feliciano, what are you waiting for? The command word."

The man who'd dropped the mouler glass nodded, and then spoke.

"PAAAAAAAASTAAAAAAA!"

Kitty tensed, but, incredibly, nothing happened. The demon hung in the air, twirling lazily from side to side.

The Don's other companion burst out laughing. His laugh sounded like "fusosososo."

Don Carlos cursed under his breath.

"Shut up, you *******..." he muttered. "Feli, how many times do I have to tell you? The command word for every magic item in the world is NOT 'pasta'!"

His voice cracked on the last few words; he sounded furious.

Feli looked away.

"Sorry, fratello... um... what is the command word, then?"

Don Carlos said something in Latin, and Feliciano echoed it. The demon's face lit up with a wicked grin, and it launched itself at Kitty's head.

In an instant, it was on her. Its grubby claws scraped at her face; its shrill keening deafened her.

Kitty put up her arms to block its attacks, but it just kept coming. She cried out as its claw scraped her forehead, and beat at the monster with her fists-

It burst in a shower of wet droplets, and fell to the ground.

She looked up, heart still pounding. For a long moment, she stared at her captors.

Fiinally, Don Carlos' second companion spoke.

"Que... what just happened?" he said.

The Don rolled his eyes, and then took off his mask. His pointed face was flushed with anger.

"She's resilient, idiot," he said.

His companion laughed.

"Awww... Lovi, you're as red as a tomato, how cute..."

Don Carlos scowled, and said something in Spanish that Kitty couldn't understand. The other man just laughed.

Kitty frowned.

"Just tell me-" she began, and stopped. The dull red glow of a vigilance sphere was coming towards them, around the corner.

All three men froze.

The Don swore under his breath, and clapped the mask to his face.

"Spain, grab her," he said. "Split up, we'll head to the safehouse in an hour."

The tallest man grabbed Kitty's arm, and started to drag her off. She struggled to get away. It was no use- she could tell as soon as he grabbed hold of her- but she had to try.

"What the **** do you even want?" she shouted.

Feliciano turned and smiled grimly; an angry light shone in his eyes.

"What do we want, ve?" he said. "I'll tell you. We want revenge."

She watched him run after his brother, as Spain dragged her away.


End file.
